Flashlights For Following: One Shots
by marylovesharry
Summary: Since reading DH different scenes of grieving characters have been flitting around my head. So I’ve started writing them down and will post them as I complete them. Obviously, there will be spoilers in these one-shots so be forewarned.
1. Only When I'm Not Thinking of You

Flashlights For Following

**DISCLAIMER: I am not JK Rowling. I do not own any Harry Potter characters, I am merely taking them out to play. **

Author's note: Since reading _DH_ different scenes of grieving characters have been flitting around my head. So I've started writing them down and will post them as I complete them. Obviously, there will be spoilers in these one-shots so be forewarned.

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Scene One: Only When I'm Not Thinking of You

Author's note: This first one-shot is a little dark I must admit. After reading _DH_ this is the first original thing I wrote. I think I can grieve for Fred through Ginny because, like her, I once lost someone excruciatingly close to my heart. Though he was not my brother he might as well have been. Fred was one of my favorite characters and I know I will miss writing him tremendously. I hope this fanfic seems real to you as her grief will be coming from my heart, not my imagination, which is a rare but welcomed change.

"After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure." (PS17) – Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, may he rest in peace.

She wasn't exactly sure when it had happened. She had been watching Teddy stumble to Harry across the living room all smiles and giggles. He could take more than three steps now without falling, though his tiny arms still flailed and his little legs still trembled. Harry had been laughing and encouraging the baby to come to him. She had been grinning at the pair of them. They were both absolutely adorable.

And then suddenly it all felt fake – surreal – as though this wasn't her life. It felt as though she was watching someone else's life. Or maybe, the life someone else was supposed to have but never got the opportunity.

Her smile slipped from her face and was rapidly replaced by a frown as a tight knot formed in her stomach. She could feel the weight of the world settle back onto her chest in its familiar place that made it so hard to breathe.

Had she actually been smiling? Had she felt happiness? What did that feel like? For now she cold not remember. It had only been seconds before but it felt like an eternity.

She watched Harry scoop Teddy into his arms and fall onto his back while holding the baby out in front of him. Both of them were laughing and Ginny's frown deepened.

_Poor Teddy_, a voice whispered in her ear, _he will never know his real parents_.

Sadness bubbled up inside of Ginny as flashes of her fallen comrades danced before her mind's eye. She watched them enjoying life. She could see her favorite Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Remus Lupin, in his element in front of her class. She could see the clumsy auror, Tonks, changing her hair from bubble gum pink to fuchsia and back. She could see them flirting and laughing with one another. They had seemed so happy. They were so full of life.

But they were gone now.

And, as it always did when she thought about those she had lost in the war, her mind went, without permission, to that place where she kept her most intimate thoughts about Fred.

Her heart clenched and tears welled up in her eyes.

Fred.

Her stomach twisted and for an awful moment she thought she might be sick.

Merlin, how she missed her older brother.

She missed his laughter and his smile. She missed hearing his voice and seeing his face. She missed the warm hugs he always seemed to have plenty of. She missed the fierceness of his love and the passion he had for life. She never knew she could miss someone this much. She wondered if the hole he left in her chest would ever go away. She knew she would never meet anyone that could take his place but she hoped that as time went on the gaping chasm in her chest would get smaller. At the moment it felt the same as, if not bigger than, it had on the first day it appeared.

Her body felt heavy and she let out a deep sigh. It was difficult to breathe and impossible to smile. She wondered if the weight of it all would suffocate her.

And then Harry was suddenly kneeling in front of her. She did not remember taking her eyes off of him, nor when he had moved so near.

"Hey," he said gently while tugging on her chin so she was forced to look into his deep green eyes. They were full of concern and understanding. He knew what she was thinking about. It must've shown on her face.

Suddenly Ginny launched herself out of her chair and flung her arms around Harry's neck nearly knocking them both to the ground. "Oh Harry," she cried into his strong shoulder.

"I know," he said quietly and she felt his hands rubbing her back in a soothing manner.

"I just miss him so much," she cried, letting the hot tears streak down her cheeks and onto his shirt. Her throat felt like it was closing up and she was finding it harder and harder to breathe. Her heart was pounding against her chest. Oh how she wished it would stop. She wished it would all stop so she could see him again. She just wanted to see him again and say goodbye. She wanted to tell him that she loved him. She wanted to hear his voice. She wanted him to tell her that every thing would be ok. She wanted him to make her smile.

"I know you do," said Harry and he hugged her tighter to himself as though to shield her from the pain.

She felt foolish. It had been so long. She should have moved on by now. She shouldn't burst into tears over him anymore. But she couldn't help herself. She missed him so much. And her tears were renewed, not quelled like she had hoped.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed, pulling back to look up at the man who held her tightly in his arms.

"You have nothing to apologize for," he said, "I get that you miss him." He pulled her back against his chest.

Just his presence made everything more bearable. To have him there to hold her as she cried meant more to her then she could ever tell him. Yes she was in pain, she missed her brother terribly, but Harry's love seemed to buffer some of it. She wasn't alone, he missed him too.

"It's ok," said Harry gently, "we'll be ok."

She nodded against his chest, her throat was closed, making speech impossible, not that she had anything to say.

She just wanted to ache to go away. The longing to see Fred was almost overwhelming. She just wanted to see him. She wanted to hug him. She wanted to tell him how much she missed him.

And then the question that burned in the back of her mind all of the time came rushing forward. It was the question that kept her up most nights. It was the question that no one could answer. It was the question she had grown to hate.

Why?

Why Fred?

Of everyone there that night, why Fred?

Why her brother?

She closed her eyes tight and hugged herself to Harry's chest begging the question to leave her alone. But it stayed, unbidden by her request.

Why?

She took a deep shaky breath. There was no answer to that question and it drove her half insane.

He was so young and loved by so many. His future was so bright and it seemed so cruel to have ended the way it did. He had gotten cheated of a promising life. And she had gotten cheated of her older brother.

She felt the same way for Remus and Tonks. Yes, they had lived longer then Fred, but they had just been married and their son wasn't even a year old when their lives were demanded of them. Teddy had gotten cheated of the parents he should have had in the same way Harry had been cheated of his parents.

Teddy.

Something stirred inside of Ginny and, pulling back from Harry, she looked through bleary eyes around the room.

"Where's the baby?" Her voice sounded rough, as though she had not used it in years, but it was there.

"I put him to bed," Harry replied, looking down at her with sorrowful eyes.

It was then Ginny realized they were kneeling on the floor and the pain in her knees registered to her brain.

"When?" She asked as she looked around. The fire that had been burning brightly in the grate now had the look of one about to be extinguished.

"Not long ago," he said, "Why? Do you want to see him?"

"No," Ginny shook her head, "I just don't remember it."

Harry nodded solemnly, "You were sitting in that chair for a little while," he answered indicating, with a nod of his head, to the chair behind her.

"Was I?" She asked as she sat back on her heels and glanced over her shoulder. Her body felt achy and she was exhausted.

"Are you tired?" He asked, though she thought he already knew the answer.

She nodded.

"Let's go to bed then."

She nodded again and not a moment later they were making their way upstairs. As soon as they reached their room Ginny collapsed in their bed and closed her eyes. Her body felt so heavy she thought she might sink straight through the bed but nothing happened. She felt Harry crawl in beside her. Then he wrapped his strong arms around her and pulled her to him so that her head was resting on his chest and her legs were wrapped around his.

"I love you," he whispered with his lips pressed against the top of her head.

"I love you too," she replied and she felt more tears leak out of her eyes and drip onto his bare chest.

He squeezed her tighter.

"I love you," he repeated.

"I know," she said with a deep sigh. And he held her just like that until she drifted off to sleep.

He watched her chest rhythmically rise and fall and felt her breath on his bare skin for almost an hour. He could not help feeling that she might stop if he took his eyes away. He knew the grief she felt for her brother was tremendous and, at times, almost overwhelming. He had loved Fred too but not in the same way she had.

God he hated seeing her in that much pain. He wanted to save her from it more than he wanted anything in the world but there was nothing he could do. So he held her tight and hoped that if there was a God, He would answer his prayers for her and take away her pain.

As he drifted off to sleep he vaguely wondered if he was the answer to his own prayers. She seemed to be comforted by him. Was he helping to take away her pain? He hoped so as he felt himself slipping away. He hoped to God that he was helping her. And this thought comforted him.

Maybe it was true.

Maybe he was helping.

Maybe.

He hoped against hope that it was true.

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	2. Friends With Benefits

Author's Note: SPOLIER WARNING!

I know I said in before the first scene that this was going to be a place where different characters mourned over those they lost in the war. However, I am in the process of writing a Katie Bell / Seamus Finnegan fanfic and before DH was published Fred had been thrown in as Katie's long standing "friend with benefits." Now that JKR has killed him I am in the process of writing him out of it. Since I LOVED Fred I couldn't bare to delete this scene with him in it. So I posted it here for you all to enjoy. Oh, and as the title suggests it's a little sexual in nature, but nothing detailed or obscene, just be forewarned.

**DISCLAIMER: I am not JK Rowling. I do not own any Harry Potter characters, I am merely taking them out to play.**

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**Scene Two: Friends With Benefits**

Katie hesitated before knocking on his door. It was late, he was probably asleep. Did she want to wake him? Yes, she needed him. A tear slid down her cheek and she quickly knocked before she lost her nerve. She heard him moan so she quietly opened the door and stepped in. It was lighter in here than in the hall. There was faint light shinning in through the window that faced the street below with lit street lamps on it. She could tell he was lying on his stomach stretched out across his bed with one arm hanging over the side.

"Fred," she whispered as she took a hesitant step toward him, "Are you awake?" He moaned again and rolled over onto this back then again on his stomach on the other side of the bed. She took another step toward him.

He rolled back over onto his back and said in a groggy and sort of annoyed voice, "Come here if you're going to Kate."

She closed the distance between them in a moment. He lifted the covers for her and she slipped in next to him. He wrapped his strong arms around her and pressed the entire length of his body up against her. She leaned into his warmth and embrace.

"Have dinner at your parents?" He asked in that same groggy voice, only without the annoyance.

She nodded in response.

"Want to talk about it?"

She shook her head then slowly turned around in his arms so she was facing him. There was laughter in his dark brown eyes – he knew what she wanted and he wanted it to. She leaned forward and kissed him as his arms pulled her closer and he rolled her onto her back.

"Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?" He asked from above her. She noticed he was much more awake now. He was laughing at her with his eyes.

"No," she said with a smile as she leaned forward and kissed him, "no talking."

"Really?" He persisted, "because you seem upset." He reached his hand up and wiped her cheek where an earlier tear had escaped. His hand was rough and strong against her soft flesh. He was looking deep into her eyes and she couldn't look away. The earlier mirth in them was slowly leaving to be replaced by genuine concern for her. It was one of the sweetest moments she ever remembered sharing with him and one of the sexiest.

"Are you telling me you would rather talk?" She asked with a seductive smile.

He returned her gesture, his playfulness coming right back to him, "If you want to," he said as he ran his hands lightly down her sides in an almost ticklish manner.

She giggled, "Good thing I don't want to then," she reached up and ran her fingers through the hair at the base of his neck as he leaned down and kissed her.

It was several hours later when Katie gently woke from a peaceful sleep to find Fred running his fingers through her hair. He smiled when she turned her head to get a better look at him.

"Hi," he whispered to her.

"Hi," she replied through a contented sigh.

"Are you awake?"

"I am now," she said with a nod.

"Want to talk about it?" He asked, while still running his fingers through her hair.

"Not really," she sighed, "It was just like every other family dinner. My parents praised Felicia and Amy and treated me like the black sheep of the family."

"I'm sorry," said Fred. Katie smiled at him, silently thanking God that she had come to him and no one else.

"Thanks," she said in a quiet voice.

"For what?"

"For not being like everyone else and saying, 'it can't have been that bad Katie, stop exaggerating' or else, 'your parents are doing the best they can, why don't you give them some credit?'"

Fred smiled at her, "I trust your judgment," he said, "and even if you are exaggerating, which I don't think you are, it's how you feel. I'm not about to tell you your feelings are wrong."

"Thanks," she said again.

"You're welcome."

They lay in comfortable silence for a few minutes, Fred still playing with her hair, before she couldn't hold it in any longer.

"Fred," she said gently. He hadn't been looking at her he had been staring up at the ceiling. Now he looked at her. "Why don't you have a proper girlfriend?"

Fred's smile left him and he frowned at her, "What?"

Katie propped herself up on her left elbow to look at him better. "You're my best friend," she said, "you're such a great guy, and I understand why we aren't dating, but I just don't get why you're still single."

He looked at her with a contemplative frown, "I just haven't found anyone yet."

"It doesn't have anything to do with this does it?" She asked.

"With what?"

She gestured between their naked bodies.

"Oh," he said with a smile, "no. It doesn't have anything to do with this."

"Are you sure?" She asked, "because we don't have to – I mean we can stop if – if you find someone else."

"I know," he said confidently, "and the same goes for you if you find someone else."

"I just," she was feeling kind of nervous saying this to him, "I don't want you to – to stop looking because you think that this is – well, that this is a permanent arrangement."

He grinned at her and let out a soft laugh, "Katie, you're great and I think the world of you, but I know this isn't permanent."

"Oh good," she said with a sigh of relief, "I was a little worried."

He chuckled softly, "Don't worry – I know we're just friends." Then he suddenly let out a loud bark of laugher that slightly startled her, "Merlin Kate, do you remember that awful four month period when we had a go of it?"

"Of course I do," she also laughed, "it was great for the first three weeks and then I thought we were going to kill each other."

"I'm glad it didn't ruin our friendship," he said sobering slightly.

"Me too," she replied with a sly grin, "because you are one hell of a shag." They both laughed.

"You're not so bad yourself," he replied, "I think that's why I held on for those three months while we fought."

"For the makeup sex?" she asked with a grin, "Oh trust me, I know."

They were silent for another comfortable moment before she asked, "So what're we going to do?"

"About what?"

"Our current predicament."

"Are we in a predicament?"

She frowned at him though there was still laughter in her eyes, "Of course we are," she said, "we know that any attempt at a romantic relationship between us would end up in smokes, but we are good friends and enjoy the sex."

He looked at her for a few seconds before opening his mouth, "I thought that's why we came up with the compromise we are currently enjoying."

"Well yes," she said, "But if either of us starts seriously dating someone else, I sincerely doubt they're going to like this arrangement."

"So we'll call it quits," he replied with a shrug.

"You think it'll be that easy?"

"Well no, not at first, but hopefully the person either of us is seeing is a better shag."

"Hopefully," she agreed with a nod, "but there aren't any guarantees."

"Kate," said Fred in all seriousness now, "if you're dating someone who isn't a better shag then me, then you should dump him."

"Why?" She asked with a confused frown.

"Because you're only supposed to get serious with someone you want to shag every day."

Katie laughed, "Who told you that?"

Fred blushed a little before muttering, "Charlie."

"And who told him?"

He looked at her flatly as though the answer was obvious and then she realized that it was – his father. She laughed again, "Well that certainly explains a lot."

"I'm serious," he replied as he snuggled deeper into his pillow and yawned.

"I'm sure you are," she said with a smile as she lay back down and nestled herself in the crook of his shoulder. "I'll remember that."

"Good," he said in a sleepy voice.

"Fred," she whispered after a minute of quiet.

"Hmm?"

"You didn't really answer my question."

"What question?" He stifled a yawn.

"Why don't you have a proper girlfriend?"

"I told you," he yawned again, "I haven't found anyone yet."

"What does that mean?" She asked, "You can't be looking very hard. You're such a great catch."

He sighed but said nothing.

"I mean, when is the last time you went on a date?"

"I had a date tonight actually," he admitted with a little defiance in his voice.

Katie propped herself up again to look at him, "How did it go?"

"You don't see her do you?"

She smiled and shook her head, "Do you always try to shag on the first date?"

"If she's willing," there was laughter in his voice.

"Maybe that's your problem," she replied, "most girls are looking for more than just a good shag."

"I don't hear you complaining."

"Yes well, I'm different aren't I?"

"I've been saying that for years Katie Bell," he laughed.

She ignored this, "I just want you to be happy," she said quite seriously.

"What makes you think I'm not?" He asked.

"Because I know you," she replied, "and I see the look in your eyes every time look at Bill and Fleur together. You want what they have."

"How do you know I just don't want her?"

"Gross Fred, she's your brother's wife."

He laughed again.

"Seriously Fred," she sighed, "why can't you admit that you want to settle down?"

"Because we're young and I am enjoying being single before I get tied down into anything serious. Come on Katie, admit you like having fun with me."

"Of course I do," she replied, "but that doesn't mean I'm not keeping my eyes open for Mr. Right."

"I'm keeping my eyes open too," he said through a stifled a yawn, "but I'm also having fun in the meantime. Come on now, it's my turn to open the shop tomorrow and George'll kill me if I'm late again."

She lay back down on his chest a little hesitantly, "Ok," she said quietly, deciding to shelf this conversation for a later date. She wasn't convinced that he was looking at all. He was a great guy, and great guys should not be single.

After a few minutes she closed her eyes and it wasn't long before the both of them were sound asleep.

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	3. Memory Lane is a Dangerous Place

Author's Note: Here is Scene Three. This one is of George mourning Fred so it's a little dark and sad. I hope you like it and please let me know what you think! I really appreciate any feedback I get.

**DISCLAIMER: I am not JK Rowling. I do not own any Harry Potter characters, I am merely taking them out to play.**

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**Scene Three: Memory Lane is a Dangerous Place**

It had happened ten years ago to the day.

In many good ways George Weasley was a completely different person than he had been back then. Ten years ago he was a poor, arrogant, reckless, shallow, nineteen year old boy who laughed and loved too readily. Now he was a rich, humble, thoughtful, grounded, twenty-nine year old man who laughed and loved with caution. Of course the opposite was also true. Ten years ago George Weasley had been a confident, loud, vibrant young man who had a passion for life and for fun that was infectious and drew people to him. Now he was a boring, quiet, wounded, twenty-nine year old man who seemed apathetic to the world and who people generally avoided.

It happens to most people, they grow up and mature and become different adults from the adolescents they had been. Aging is an ongoing process that refines and molds and shapes people. It happens gradually over time as it is supposed to, it is inevitable. But it wasn't like that for George. He could point to the exact moment his life had changed. It had happened ten years ago to the day.

As he lay in bed staring at the ceiling in the early morning hours before the sun was to come up, he thought about that day. He'd spent hundreds of sleepless nights replaying that day over during the past ten years. Tonight was no different. He had tossed and turned in an attempt to fall asleep earlier but to no avail. So, giving up, he lay still in the quiet darkness around him and stared up at the white ceiling. His eyes stung with tiredness but there was nothing he could do about it. His mind wandered to that day again.

Voldemort had still been in power then. George and his twin brother Fred, along with the rest of their family, had gone to Hogwarts as soon they had been told about the battle. Truth be told he and his brother had been itching to get more involved in some way. Cabin fever had set in on them and he had learned the hard way what a dangerous and powerful thing it was. It was pandemonium and chaos as soon as they reached the castle. Fred had volunteered himself and George to guard the secret passageways into the castle. But they had been separated from one another when their father had been set upon by three honking death eaters set to kill him and a shout of pain from their older brother Percy drew Fred to him. George lost track of what happened for a while after that. He had fought beside his father for his life that night and he knew part of him had wondered where Fred was. And then – he remembered this very distinctly – he had been chasing a death eater down one of the corridors when there was a terrible explosion somewhere on one of the floors above him. At that moment if felt like the wind was knocked right out of him and his heart clenched painfully in his chest like it never had before. He knew he fell to the ground then and his father had screamed his name and come running up to him. But he hardly registered all of that because he was feeling so strange. For one moment he felt an awful, agonizing, wrenching sensation in his chest as though something had been torn from him and then he felt as though he was floating above his body – it was a pleasant sensation one of weightlessness and peace – and as soon as the moment passed he felt slammed back into himself. His body felt heavy and his heart beat painfully in his chest. At first he couldn't identify a new feeling he was experiencing. He thought he must've survived some dark curse he'd never know of before. Then the feeling registered to his brain – it was one other people had described to him and he had never understood – it was loneliness. He felt a sharp pain in his chest and for the first time there was a void in him where something he couldn't identify had once been. He didn't know what it was but he felt like a piece of his soul had been taken from him.

"George," his father had rolled him onto his back, "George, can you hear me son?"

George had nodded and his father's pinched face relaxed a little, "Who cursed me?" George had asked as he sat up and looked around. He and his father were alone in the corridor but the shrills and shrieks of battle were still going on. He was finding it hard to breathe as an ache settled somewhere in his chest.

His father looked about as well and then frowned at his son, "I don't know," he said urgently, "I didn't see anyone. Are you ok? How do you feel?"

George patted himself down in an exploratory sort of way, "No new wounds," he said, "but I feel strange."

"Strange?" There was alarm in his father's voice, "Strange how?" He demanded as he helped him up.

"I don't know," George shook his head but he couldn't get rid of the ache in his chest, "Like I'm missing something but I don't know what it is."

His father gave him an alarmed look but just as he was going to speak George saw a jet of orange light and pushed his father out of the way while narrowly avoiding the curse himself. The dueling picked back up as two death eaters emerged at the end of the corridor and began throwing more curses at them. He lost track of things again as he chased death eaters and helped his allies in battle. It wasn't until a cruel, cold, high-pitched voice spoke so near George he thought it came from right beside him that he regained his bearings.

He remembered Voldemort's horrible voice as though he was hearing it now instead of having heard it ten years ago. That voice haunted his dreams. Voldemort had magnified his voice to make it heard over the grounds. He had called back his forces and was giving them an hour to give up Harry or he would join in the fight himself and kill everyone. George remembered wondering why he hadn't been fighting all along, until he mentioned their casualties. George had known of course that there was the very real chance of casualties when they had come here but hearing that word in Voldemort's voice had struck fear in him. It was the first time he realized that he hadn't seen any of his family, besides his father, in quite some time.

The castle went eerily silent then as the fighting stopped and the enemy retreated. George let his father steer him toward the Great Hall where everyone was heading as he wondered about the ache in his chest. There was no sign of anyone from their family in the Great Hall when they arrived. He remembered going around the room with his father in an almost panic asking if anyone had seen anyone. Then Charlie burst in and called his name. George had embraced his older brother with a fierce hug and tears in his eyes. His father had the same reaction. Then all three of them asked the same question at the same time, "Have you seen anyone else?"

"I'll go look for them," Charlie had replied, "You stay here in case they show up." George had followed his instructions with some reluctance. With every passing minute that he didn't see Fred a sense of panic rose in his chest. A minute after Charlie left, which felt like an eternity to George, his mother came in followed closely by his youngest sister Ginny. He had launched himself at his sister as his father did the same to his mother. Then they switched and George breathed a sigh of relief in his mother's arms, as she wept. He remembered thinking they might have just made it through with the whole family in tact. He asked them about the others but they didn't seem to know. He told them Charlie was looking. Then the door banged open and George turned and felt his world tilt. Walking toward them was his oldest brother Bill, thankfully alive. On one side of Bill was his new wife Fleur and on the other side was his other brother Percy, but none of this registered to George. What registered with a horrifying, petrifying, truth was in Bill's arms, he was carrying Fred.

George couldn't move as the group approached. When they got close he could hear sobbing from the three people walking but he couldn't take his eyes off of his twin's face. It was lifeless. His entire body lay in Bill's arms like a rag doll. It was obvious that there was no life in him but George refused to believe it.

Bill stopped in front of the family and shook as he held Fred. "Why did you stop?" His mother's choked voice startled George, "Get him to Madam Pomfrey."

"Mum," Percy seemed to force out, "she can't help him."

"Of course she can!" His mother shouted, "Let me see him! Where is he hurt? She can cure him! We just have to get him to her!"

"Bill," said his father in a calm but emotional voice, "put him down."

"I'm sorry," Bill whispered thickly, "I should have protected him." His shoulders shook as tears spilled down his cheeks, "I'm sorry."

"Bring him to Madam Pomfrey!" His mother shouted, "You're wasting time!"

"Mum," Percy walked forward and engulfed his mother in a hug, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

She seemed to struggle against him for a moment and then she began to sob, "No!" she kept repeating, "Not my son! Not Fred!"

"Bill," his father put a hand on his shoulder, "bring him over here."

In the middle of the room there was a line of dead bodies. The people who were not seriously injured were bringing them in from various places around the castle and on the lawns. There seemed to be at least thirty of forty of them lying side by side now. Most had people around them crying and consoling one another.

George found his voice as his father and brother walked toward the line, "He can't go there," he said roughly. Everyone turned to look at him, "Mum's right. Take him to Madam Pomfrey."

"George," Fleur put her hand on his shoulder but he shrugged it off.

"He's not dead," he said firmly, as he pulled his arms defensively across his chest, "He's playing a joke on us or something."

Bill laid Fred down on the floor beside another lifeless body that George didn't recognize and the last of his resolve and resistance broke. They looked so alike both lying there so still. If Fred had been playing a joke on them he would have let him know about it. Fred was never cruel. He would never do something that caused anyone this much pain. That ache in George's chest was suddenly explained. He knew what it was now. Fred had died and therefore a part of George had died too. Tears filled George's eyes and he blindly ran toward Fred's lifeless body. His father's arms caught him before he got there and held him in a surprisingly firm hug.

"No," was all George could say. It was true he couldn't deny it but he couldn't believe it either. "No Fred no."

With a wail his mother had let go of Percy and flung herself on top of Fred's lifeless body as she sobbed. George's father let go him too and turned to consol his wife. George's knees were weak and without support he felt himself fall to the ground without any real ability to stop himself. He somehow ended up kneeling beside Fred's head.

The rest of the night was foggy to him. He vaguely remembered Ron and Hermione coming in. He remembered Charlie coming back and pulling him into an embrace. He remembered another duel took place. He had white hot rage then. He had wanted to kill every single one of those death eaters for taking away his brother. He had dueled more fiercely than he ever had before. He remembered his mother killing Bellatrix Lestrange and he remembered Harry defeating Voldemort.

George wiped a tear from his eye as he lay in his bed staring up at the ceiling. It had happened ten years ago to the day. That was the first day George had known what it was to feel lonely. It was the first day George had lost someone who meant the absolute world to him. It was the first day George felt like an outsider in his own family. That was the first day George Weasley had stopped living and started dying.

It had happened ten years ago to the day.

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	4. You're a Damn Good Dad, Harry Potter

**DISCLAIMER: I am not JK Rowling. I do not own any Harry Potter characters, I am merely taking them out to play.**

Author's note: This scene is of Teddy mourning his parents. It's not as dark as my previous scenes. I hope you like it. PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK BY SUBMITTING A REVIEW! THANKS!

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**Scene 4: You're A Damn Good Dad, Harry Potter**

It was a cold, crisp, December, morning. Teddy Lupin stood silently at the foot of his parents' graves. Soft, white, snow was piling up around him, obscuring the inscriptions on the headstones. But that didn't matter really. He had come here so often over the years he knew how the inscriptions read by heart. He didn't need to see them.

"Hi mum," he said looking at the grave to his right. His voice was slightly croaky as the words struggled out past the lump in his throat. "Hi dad," he said to the grave to his left. He glanced nervously over his shoulder to where he could just make out the shape of his godfather squatting in the snow at the base his own parents' graves. He swallowed with difficulty, turned back and continued talking; he needed to get this out, "I'm getting married today," he continued quietly, "I can't believe it." His mind drifted automatically to beautiful face of his fiancée and a smile graced his lips, "She's wonderful," he said just above a whisper, "Harry tells me you would really love her." He paused here and let a tear roll down his cheek as he imagined his parents, what he knew them to look like from the photos he had of them, meeting her and loving her just as much as he did. He sniffed but did not wipe away the tear. If he didn't cry now he knew he would lose it at the altar later and he really didn't want that. "Her name is Victoire," he continued thickly, "She's Bill and Fleur Weasley's oldest daughter. You know Bill and Fleur, Harry says you got along really well with them and that dad," his voice cracked a little here as he fought to continue, "that you helped Bill after he was mauled by Greyback. Harry always says your willingness to help proves what a great man you were and Bill always says he wouldn't have gotten through it without you." He paused again and sniffed hard as another tear rolled down his cheek. "So I think you'd be happy to have them as in-laws," he mumbled, "I think they're great and I can't wait to become part of their family. Harry tells me all of the time that I'm already part of the family but now it'll be official." He smiled softly as he thought about what it would be like to be called 'son' by Bill and Fleur. But then a horrible thought occurred to him, "But that's not why I'm marrying her," he added quickly, "I love her. I'd marry her no matter whose family she belonged to. She is the sweetest, smartest, funniest, kindest, most beautiful woman in the world, and she's my best friend," he paused again as he wiped away his tears, "sometimes," he said quietly as he looked at his hands, "I can't believe she loves me. Dad, Harry told me that when mum told you she loved you, you couldn't believe her either. You thought you were wrong for her, that you couldn't understand why she loved you. That's how I feel. I love Victoire with everything in me and it blows my mind that she loves me back." He smiled again as his mind drifted to her face once more. He thought of the night he'd told her he loved her and the first time she'd said it back. "I guess there's no denying I'm your son," he mumbled, thinking that even though he hadn't been raised by his father they both still felt shock when the women they loved, loved them back.

Silence descended on graveyard around Teddy. It was a good silence, like a blanket of peace, quieting the world. He'd come to say what he wanted to say. He glanced at his watch. He really should be going, if he wanted to be back to the church on time.

"I should go," he said as he looked down at each grave in turn, "I wish-" he began but got chocked up. So he cleared his throat and began again, "I wish you could come with me." He glanced over his shoulder at his godfather who was standing at the base of his own parents' graves now with his eyes closed, "But you," Teddy swallowed hard, "you chose a good man to go in your place," he told his parents as he looked back at their graves, "I think you'd be proud of the both of us. Harry is the best godfather anyone could ask for," He continued, "he's the next best thing to having you with me dad, and Gin is wonderful too mum. Everyone says she's the most like you of anyone. Even Gram says Gin reminds her of you sometimes. I'm proud to have them standing in your place with me today, since it can't be you. They'll do you proud, I'm sure." Teddy fell silent again as he looked at the snow covered ground.

"Thanks," said a familiar voice from his left as a hand touched his shoulder.

Teddy's head jerked up to find tears in his godfather's green eyes. He felt himself go a little red, "You heard me?" He asked nervously.

"Just that last part," said Harry. "I came over to tell you it's time to go and I just heard that last part."

Teddy looked down at his feet, "It's true you know," he mumbled.

"I know," said Harry. Teddy looked back up and his godfather was smiling, "We're proud to stand in their place with you today too. I know how badly you want them there," he glanced over at his own parents' graves and then looked back at Teddy, "but I'm glad you'll let Gin and I represent them."

Of all the people Teddy knew, he knew that the only person who truly understood how he felt, in regards to his parents, was Harry. He had always felt like Harry was the only person who understood him in that respect. He could tell Harry how he was feeling and know that Harry understood without having to have an explanation.

"I so wish they could be here," Teddy whispered as tears welled up in his eyes again.

"I know," said Harry as he quickly stepped forward and pulled Teddy into a hug. Over the twenty five years of Teddy's life Harry had hugged him a good number of times, too many to count in fact. And despite never having been hugged by his own father, he always thought this was what it would have felt like. After a moment they pulled away from one another. Harry put his hands on both of Teddy's shoulders as Teddy sniffed and wiped his eyes.

"Thanks," Teddy mumbled.

"You're welcome," said Harry gently.

"I mean …" Teddy looked up into his godfather's eyes, "… for everything."

"I know what you mean," Harry replied with a smile. "Listen," he paused as a smile spread across his lips, "you're getting married today," he continued with a silly grin that was infectious. Teddy began grinning as well. "So let's get to that church and get you ready."

Teddy nodded and took a deep breath. Even if his own father couldn't be at his wedding he thought Harry made a pretty good substitute. And once more, in a long list of times, Teddy thought about how lucky Harry's own children were to have such a damn good dad, and he counted himself blessed to have been adopted into such a family. With one last glance at his parents graves Teddy thought they would be proud of him and Harry before disapparating with a loud _crack_!

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	5. Let Me Heal On My Own

Author's Note: Here is Scene Five. This one is another one of George and Charlie mourning Fred. I hope you like it and please let me know what you think! I really appreciate any feedback I get.

DISCLAIMER: I am not JK Rowling. I do not own any Harry Potter characters, I am merely taking them out to play.

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Let Me Heal on My Own**

The breeze felt cool against his sweaty forehead. He took a deep shaky breath and ran his trembling fingers through his short red hair as he leaned forward against the porch railing. He ran his hands down his freckled face and rubbed his brown eyes before folding his arms across his broad chest. The garden was blissfully empty and dark except for the faint light spilling from the kitchen windows behind him. It had been too bright inside, too hot, too crowded. There were too many people with too big of smiles and too loud of voices. It had all just been too much. He had had to get out before he cracked. So he came out here to get some space and fresh air. He could hear their muffled voices carrying on their conversations, he had known no one would notice if he slipped out.

Well, almost no one.

The door behind him creaked and he glanced over his shoulder to find his older brother Charlie in the doorway, "Hi," the newcomer mumbled quietly.

George didn't answer, he just turned back to stare out at the vast darkness before him. Charlie, never one to taken hints, came to stand beside his younger brother and lean on the porch railing in an identical fashion. "How are you?" he asked in the same quiet voice.

"Fine," George lied as he stood up straight, walked around his brother, down the few steps, and into the garden.

Charlie wasted no time following, "Really?" he asked as he kept pace with his brother's steps, "Because you're not acting fine."

"Just leave me alone," George mumbled as he continued across the yard. They were out of the light of the house now and the stars were the only source of illumination for their path.

"No," Charlie replied and he grabbed George's arm, forcing him to stop, "you can't run away forever."

"I'm not running away," George replied sharply as he ripped his arm out of his brother's rough grasp.

"Yes you are," Charlie snapped.

"No I'm not," George replied, "I just …" he glanced back at the house and his heart rate quickened, "I just can't," he sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, "I can't be in there."

"Why?"

"Because it's too much, it's all too much, all those people,"

"All those people?" Charlie parroted, "that's our family in there."

"I know," said George with a shake of his head, "I just … I want to be alone."

"We've left you alone for long enough," Charlie replied, "Don't you think it's time to start moving on?"

"Moving on?" George cried incredulously, "And just forget all about Fred like everyone else has done? I'm sorry but it's not that easy Charlie."

"Easy? Do you honestly think this has been easy for anyone?"

George shrugged and looked down at the dirt. Of course he knew it hadn't been easy on anyone. But why was it so much harder for him then any of the others?

"No one has forgotten about him," said Charlie gently, "but you can hardly expect us to mourn forever. And no one expects that of you either."

"Well maybe you should."

"George, you have to go on with your life. Fred wouldn't want you to be unhappy like this."

"How would you know what he would've wanted?" George snapped. "You barely knew him!" He knew he was being mean and that wasn't really fair but it was true.

"He was my brother too," Charlie cried defensively.

"That doesn't mean anything. You haven't been here since we were kids and you barely wrote. You didn't know him."

"You're right I haven't been here and I may not have been as close to Fred as you were but I knew him and I know he wouldn't want you unhappy like this."

"Well I can't just forget about him and pretend as though everything is fine when it's not. I miss him Charlie, in ways you'll never understand."

"I know you do," Charlie's voice softened slightly, "I miss him too."

"No," George shook his head and pushed his brother hard on the shoulder. Charlie took a few unsteady steps backward. George felt crowded and he needed space. "You don't understand. You can't possibly understand. You miss him when you think about him - when you come across a photo or a letter or something. I miss him every time I look in the mirror and I think for the briefest of seconds that I'm seeing him. I miss him every night I try to fall asleep without the sound of his breathing. I miss him every time I see something that I know he would appreciate or laugh at. And every time I'm around my friends or our family" he gestured toward the house, "and one of you looks at me as though you've seen a ghost I know it's because you thought I was him."

"Of course we think you're him," said Charlie with half a smile, "You were twins. Most of us spent most our lives trying to tell you two apart."

"Well then you should be glad you don't have to worry about that anymore," said George quietly.

"Don't say that," Charlie snapped angrily, "How could you say that?"

George shrugged and looked down again.

"We all miss him," said Charlie, "we all loved him."

"It sure doesn't seem like it," George mumbled.

"That's because we're moving on with our lives. Why won't you let us help you do the same?" There was desperation in his brother's tone.

George knew he just wanted to help him but – "I don't need help," he replied stubbornly, "I can figure this out on my own."

"But you don't have to," Charlie's voice was pleading, "we can help."

"I don't want you to help," George growled, "I just want to be left alone," and he turned on his heel and walked away, away from the house, away from his family, and toward the unknown.

"George," Charlie called and the pain in his brother's voice made George stop and turn around, "I've already lost one brother," he said in a choked voice, "I can't lose you too."

"It'd be easier for you if I wasn't around to remind you of him."

"Don't say that," said Charlie, "we love you."

George nodded slowly, "You love me?"

"Of course I do."

"Then do me a favor."

"Anything,"

"Let me heal on my own," and he turned and ran away.

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	6. Unbearable Without You

Author's Note: I just finished reading DH again and was struck by the inspiration fairy. Here is Scene Six. This one is of Charlie and Ginny mourning Fred. Please let me know what you think! I really appreciate any feedback I get.

DISCLAIMER: I am not JK Rowling. I do not own any Harry Potter characters I am merely taking them out to play.

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Scene Six: Unbearable Without You**

He was slowly suffocating. Charlie had crossed the threshold and his breath had caught in his lungs refusing to be exhaled. He hadn't expected it to be this hard, though he hardly knew what he had been expecting. Memories of his long gone little brother swam in front of his face. Fred had been his favorite, though he never admitted that to anyone. While he was closest in age to Bill, he had been closest in spirit to Fred. They shared a sense of adventure and daring. Fred had always been the first to go along with whatever Charlie said or did. Although hardly anyone else could, Charlie had always been able to tell the twins apart because George was just the tiniest bit more reserved than Fred had been. Poor George. Charlie's chest constricted and his vision swam - he was still holding his breath - as he saw Fred's laughing face in his mind's eye. They had gotten into plenty of trouble together over the years. He missed him terribly though not as much, he was sure, as George did. He thought of the brief confrontation he had had with George in the garden a few hours ago. George was in pain, everyone could see it, and no one could help him. Charlie hated seeing George like that. He had only wanted to help but he was afraid he may have made things worse. They had argued and he was sure George didn't mean the things he said but they stung none the less.

Charlie was standing in the doorway to their room - the one Fred had shared with George and before then he had shared with Percy - he gripped the door frame roughly in an attempt to keep upright; his normally strong knees were failing him. He wasn't sure what it was about seeing this room that affected him so. It was empty, save some boxes stacked in the corner, an old desk, and a pair of twin beds - maybe it was the vacancy that did it. He had no particular memories of his brother here. In fact he hadn't set foot in this room since he had moved out of it and up into the attic with Bill when Ginny was born. Whenever he came for a visit, which regretfully was not all that often, he stayed in Percy's room (predominantly because it smelled better than anyone else's). He smiled sadly to himself and felt his lungs open up as he took a deep breath full of air. He felt lightheaded and feint.

"Charlie?"

Startled, Charlie whirled around; his wand was out and shining light into his attacker's face before he had conscious thought. Only, it wasn't an attacker. He found his baby sister, Ginny, squinting in the light. Her eyes were puffy and red. He couldn't tell if it was from sleep or because she'd been crying. He lowered his wand and whispered, "Nox" leaving them standing in the hall dimly lit by a few flickering candles.

"I didn't mean to startle you," she said and by her voice he knew she'd been crying.

"It's ok," he put one hand over his rapidly beating heart and took a few deep breaths. After holding his breath for so long his lungs burned from overwork.

"What're you doing?" She whispered, gazing over his shoulder.

He glanced behind him, at the empty bed room, and turning back to her, shrugged, "thinking."

"No one's seen George for hours," she told him and even in the flickering, dim, light he could see the torture on her face.

He couldn't stand it anymore. He opened his arms and she immediately fell into his embrace, pressing her face against his chest. He rubbed her back in a comforting way. "He'll be ok," he whispered fervently, though whom he was trying to convince, he wasn't sure.

"I don't think he will be," Ginny whispered and Charlie could feel her tears seeping through his shirt.

"Of course he will," he replied in what he knew to be a soothing voice, "you'll see. He just needs some time to think and then he'll come around."

"You didn't see his face," Ginny said in a broken and muffled voice, "it was awful. I'm afraid he's going to hurt himself."

Charlie just squeezed her tighter. He had seen George's face; it was what had prompted him to follow his brother into the garden after dinner a few hours before. George had looked like he had nothing to live for and Charlie had been afraid that he would lose him too. But during their argument he got the impression that George had had no such thoughts. He had been a Gryffindor after all, and Charlie knew he would never take the cowardly escape from pain; it would probably never occur to him as an option.

They stood in silence for a few minutes before Ginny whispered, "I miss him," and clutched Charlie's shirt in a desperate way. He felt tears spring to his eyes as his baby sister began crying in his arms. He knew she meant Fred, though she could've meant George too. Losing one of them had felt like losing them both. George was barely a shell of the man he had once been.

"I do too," he admitted as the first tear rolled down his cheek. He could do nothing to stop it.

"Why Fred?" She whispered and he felt a lump form in his throat, "Why? Of everyone there - ?" The question was drowned out but a sudden sob that sounded as though it were ripped from her throat. She leaned against him and he wondered if he had the strength to hold them both up.

"I ask myself that question every day," he replied quietly.

She pulled back abruptly and looked up at him. Even in the dim light he could make out the tear tracks down her cheeks and it broke his heart. "Do you?" She asked as though she didn't believe him.

He nodded, unable to speak anymore past the lump in his throat. He could feel the hot, salty, tears cascading down his cheeks.

"I thought I was the only one," she whispered in an amazed, thoughtful voice.

"You're not," his voice was much rougher than usual. He was surprised it had worked, he hadn't expected it to.

She leaned into him again and he hugged her tight. He wanted to shield her from the pain even though he knew it was impossible. It had been his job to protect his siblings. He was their older brother and on this, his most important job, he had failed miserably. He felt overwhelming shame. Why had he spent so much time in Romania working with dragons? Why hadn't he been here for his family? They had needed him and he had known what was going on - how strong the enemy was becoming. Why hadn't he moved home when Bill had? He might have been able to prevent all of their pain. Fred might not have died. Just as he was beginning to feel overcome by grief a small, gentle, voice in the back of his head reminded him that he couldn't have known what would happen. A larger, nastier, voice said he should have seen it coming. The small voice reminded him that Dumbledore thought it was good for him to remain in Romania. The larger voice said he didn't give a damn what Dumbledore thought - he was dead - just like Fred - they were both gone - and he was left to pick up the pieces of his shattered family. Charlie closed his eyes and pulled Ginny a little closer. The small voice reminded him that there was nothing he could have done to save Fred. The louder voice said he should have forced his family to stay at home - that none of them should have been there at all. But he knew that would have been impossible. He could no more have forced them to stay behind than he himself could have - not when the lives of their friends and the entire wizarding world hung in the balance. They would have fought no matter what he had said or done.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to no one in particular - or maybe to Fred - as more tears slid down his cheeks, unchecked.

Ginny pulled back from him again, "For what?"

He looked down at her and saw her grow right before his eyes. She had been this little baby once. He remembered his mother bringing her home from St. Mungo's when he was 8. She had been wrapped in a pink blanket and they were carrying her with such care he was afraid to look at her in case his gaze was too strong. But she turned out to be tougher than she appeared. He remembered teaching her how to wrestle and throw a good punch whenever the twins bothered her. He remembered teaching her how to fly on a broom and the joy on her face the first time she did it on her own. He remembered hitting Ron the first time he knocked her down and made her cry. He watched, in his mind's eye, as she grew into the beautiful young woman standing before him and he was proud of her.

"For not protecting him," he admitted in a quiet voice. He'd always been able to confide in her. She always understood and she never judged.

"It wasn't your fault," she whispered and more tears sprang to Charlie's eyes.

"It was my job," he mumbled, "to protect all of you."

Ginny shook her head, "You have been a wonderful big brother," her voice shook as she spoke, "and it wasn't your fault."

He looked away from her, unable to keep her sincere gaze. He thought of Fred and remembered the first time he tricked him into believing he was George. The corner of his mouth twitched. He remembered daring Fred to jump off the roof into the tree just outside their window and being amazed when the six year old did it without hesitation. He remembered playing quidditch with Bill, Fred, and George in the summers after he'd gone to Hogwarts. He remembered beating Fred after he'd terrified Ron by changing his favorite stuffed animal into a spider. He remembered wrestling and rough housing with Fred and George over the holidays, whenever he was home from school. He remembered convincing Fred he had to wrestle Hagrid in order to be let into Hogwarts. He remembered fighting with Fred after the end of his 4th year, accusing him of not looking out for Ginny and letting her get hurt. He remembered the passionate way Fred had defended himself. He remembered all the pranks the twins had played on the family, including transfiguring his toothbrush into a snake once, and how much life and joy they had brought to his life. He wondered if George would ever be the same again.

"It wasn't," Ginny's voice brought him out of his thoughts. He shook his head. "You couldn't have done anything," she continued.

"I know," he whispered with little conviction. He knew, of course he knew, it wasn't his fault. But knowing and believing were two very different things.

"No one blames you," Ginny continued.

He nodded, "I know," though he thought they should. He may not have been the one to strike the blow but he hadn't been protecting him. He should have been the one to die in Fred's place.

Ginny half-smiled at him though tears still leaked from her over bright eyes. "I love you," she said and she hugged him again.

He nodded slowly as he rubbed her back, "I love you too."

"I'm so glad you're home. This would be unbearable without you," she whispered.

"I'm glad I'm home too," he agreed and then he was suddenly overcome with fatigue. He yawned hugely and stretched his arms over his head, bringing them down to wipe his moist cheeks and then rub his stinging eyes. Ginny stepped back and yawned as well. "I think it's bed time," he said, regretful to break up the tender moment they'd been sharing, but desperate for sleep.

She nodded, wiping her nose with the back of her hand, something he was proud to think he taught her. He conjured a hankie out of thin air so she could dab her eyes. She took it gingerly and gave a little sniff. He knew what she was thinking. That was something he'd seen Fred do for her before and he regretted the pain it caused her to think of him.

He yawned again, suddenly drained and wondering how on earth he would make it to the room he was sharing with Percy, when she whispered his name, "Charlie?" It sounded small.

He looked at her again, "Yeah?"

"Thanks," she murmured.

He frowned, "For what?"

"For being my big brother," she paused briefly, "and for looking out for me." Then she reached up and kissed him on the cheek before turning and heading down the stairs to her room. He watched her go for a long moment until the darkness swallowed her up and he heard her door shut with a muted snap. He was filled with both love and sorrow so strong he thought he might collapse on the spot. He loved his baby sister, was so proud of the young woman she was becoming, but he missed Fred something terrible. There was an ache and a longing in his chest to see his brother again, to hear him laugh, to feel the infectious warmth of his smile. And he knew he shared his sorrow with her; that tonight, while comforting her, he'd been comforted as well. She had proved that he wasn't alone in his grief and, above all else, it wasn't his fault that his brother was dead. He'd been grappling with the blame ever since it had happened but it wasn't his to bear. He knew that now. He'd done his best to protect him. There was nothing he could have done.

With a sense of relief that was exhausting he made his way to bed, thinking of George, hoping that he would be alright, knowing somehow that he would be. They all would be. With time and learning to lean on each other, his family would survive this great and terrible loss. It would bring them closer, it already had in some ways. Percy was back home, that was an enormous start in the right direction. With every step he took that carried him to bed he knew more and more that they would be ok. They were fighters, his family, they would go on. And that thought alone brought him much comfort.

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	7. I Don't Deserve You

DISCLAIMER: I am not JK Rowling. I do not own any Harry Potter characters I am merely taking them out to play.

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Percy heard her come in and tried to control his breathing so she would think he was asleep. He had his back to the door, facing the small, white-curtained, window that overlooked the square. He felt a draft as she picked up the covers and slid quietly in beside him. He flinched when she touched his arm.

"The girls are sleep," she whispered and he could feel her hot breath on the back of his neck.

He grunted as though she'd woken him even though he'd been lying in this postion, curled up on his side, for the better part of an hour. He knew sleep would not come to him - not tonight - maybe tomorrow but not tonight.

"Were you sleeping?" She asked gently.

He grunted again and pulled his shoulder away from her an inch or so.

"I know you weren't," she said as she withdrew her hands and her mouth, which had been hovering near his ear.

"Then why did you ask?" He muttered.

"Why were you pretending to be?" He could feel the fight in her. She wanted him to engage her. He didn't think he had the strength - not tonight.

"Do you always return a question with a question?" He could hear the disinterest in his tone and he hoped she could too.

"Do you?" She returned heatedly.

Instead of responding he pulled further away from her - closer to the edge of the bed and curled up further into a ball.

"Percy," she said with a sad little sigh, "what have I done?" He hated that she assumed his mood was due to her and that she was making him feel guilty among everything else he was already feeling.

"Why does everything have to be about you?" He heard the venom in his tone - knew it would hurt her - but could not contain it. There was so much pain in him - it had to come out somewhere. He would regret his tone in the morning but tonight - tonight he just wanted to sleep.

"What is that supposed to mean?" She was getting angry again.

"It means you haven't done anything," he returned, "why do you assume that my behavior has something to do with you?"

"Because you've been a great prat all day."

"And why should that've been your fault?" He rolled over slightly so he could look at her over his shoulder. She was propped up on one elbow, just like he knew she would be. "Do you know what today is?" He asked her sharply.

She shook her head slowly with a glowering look in her eyes. He knew she was biting back her tongue.

"You don't?" He shouldn't have been surprised really. She hadn't lived in England during the war. She hadn't lost family on this day so many years ago. It didn't have the same significance for her that it did for him.

"I said no," she replied harshly. She was barely containing her anger.

"You didn't say anything," he couldn't help himself.

"You know what I meant when I shook my head," she snapped.

"It's the second of May," he told her but she just gave him a blank look so he elaborated, though it was painful, "the anniversary of Fred's death."

"Oh," a look of dawning comprehension came across her features.

He turned back to the window so he wouldn't have to look at her. She was an only child as were both of her parents. She didn't even have cousins growing up. She could never understand the depth of the pain he felt when he thought of Fred - his little brother. He had been there, though he never told her that. She didn't need to know that he had watched his brother die, actually saw the life go out of his eyes. Fred had had more life in him while he was alive than anyone Percy had ever met. How could it be possible that he was dead? And bitter thoughts crept in on his mind again. Why had he wasted so many years fighting with them? How had he let his ambitions get in the way of his family? How had he not seen that they had been right all along? Fred had told him once that there was nothing more important than family and Percy remembered thinking he was young and stupid. Now he knew Fred had been wiser than he, Percy, could ever hope to be. And Percy wondered, not for the first time, how he had been sorted into Gryffindor. Gryffindors were loyal and Percy had only ever been loyal to himself. He should have been in Ravenclaw, he knew, what had possessed that hat? But he had come back - something Ginny liked to remind him of when he confided in her his true feelings. She told him it took a lot of courage for him to apologize and ask them to forgive him. He liked to believe her. He liked to think they didn't blame him.

He had made so many mistakes when he was young and stupid. It still amazed him that his family had welcomed him back with open arms. He had felt like the black sheep his whole life - like he never really had a place in the family. Bill, Charlie, Fred, George, and Ron were so different from him. They had all been quidditch players (even Ginny) and he had despised flying ever since his first time on a broom. They had this charisma and self-confidence that somehow missed him; they were courageous, fearless, and daring while he was none of those things. But in the days and weeks that had followed Fred's death he felt a closeness to them that he had never thought possible. They mourned together and held each other and cried together. They all knew how the others felt - well all but George. No one could know how he felt no matter how hard they tried.

He remembered, on the two-year anniversary of Fred's death he had been alone with George in the sitting room at the Burrow. How they had come to be alone he'd since forgotten but he remembered there being a silence between them that seemed to say more than all the words they had ever spoken aloud. There was sorrow in it but also a comfort he didn't understand. They were sitting across from one another, both staring at the merrily dancing fire in the hearth lost in their own separate worlds but each aware of the other. Percy had been fighting back bitter resentment at all the time he had wasted and how badly he wanted to take it all back.

Then George had broken the silence in a quiet voice, "I'm sorry, you know."

Percy had looked at his younger brother, bemused, "For what?"

"For what I said to you," George had said, "just after the funeral."

Percy had known what he was talking about and had known, the moment the words had left George's mouth, that he hadn't meant them. "I know," he had replied with a nod.

"I never told you though," George had said, "and I want you to know. I didn't mean it."

Percy had nodded, "I never thought you did," he had replied quietly. And he had remembered, very clearly, what George was apologizing for. After the funeral they had gone back to Burrow and George had gone into the garden to be alone. Percy, wanting to comfort his brother, had stupidly followed him. It had been his own fault really; he should have left him alone. George had been angry, Percy had known, and he shouldn't have pushed him. But he had asked if he was ok and George had gone off. Of all the things George had yelled at him the only one Percy remembered was, 'I wish it had been you instead'. George had been told that Percy and Ron were right there when Fred had died, that it could have been any of them, or all three of them. The words had cut deep into his heart and haunted his dreams for months afterward.

"You know," Percy had said quietly, "sometimes I wish it had been me."

"No," George had shaken his head, "Don't say that. I wish I'd never said that. I never meant it."

Percy had half smiled at his brother, "Sometimes I think, if it had been me, you wouldn't have been so deeply affected -"

"That's not true!" George had cried. This conversation seemed to have been torturing him, but Percy had felt it was one they needed to have.

"Fred was your twin," he had continued, "it wouldn't have been the same."

"He was my brother, you are my brother, it is the same," George had pleaded, "I've never once wished you were dead Perce, never."

Percy had sighed, "Even so, I think Fred would've been able to help the family better if it had been me."

"Not true," George had shaken his head violently, "Fred was really torn up when you were estranged from us. He hated it. I don't think he would've recovered if you had died." The doubt he felt must've showed on Percy's face because George had continued, "No, really. He put on a good show but when you left, it really tore him up. As much grief as he gave you, Perce, I know Fred loved you."

Percy had felt his throat constrict and tears well in his eyes. "I loved him too," he had said quietly.

"I know," George had replied.

"I'm sorry too," Percy had continued, "for what I did, I was -"

"I know," George had cut across the rest of Percy's sentence, "you're my brother. I know you're sorry."

Percy didn't know what to say. A comfortable silence stretched between them and he had known then that he was forgiven – that George didn't blame him – though Percy thought he should. It was a relief such as he had never felt before.

***

"I'm sorry," the woman lying in bed beside him whispered, pulling Percy from the depths of his thoughts. "I forgot."

Percy nodded but said nothing. His anger at her was gone. He didn't have the energy to be angry. He just wanted to be alone. He pulled further away from her and curled himself into a tighter ball. "Just leave me alone," he whispered.

He could feel her eyes on the back of his head but after a few minutes she laid all the way down without comment. He felt tears leaking out of his eyes, running over his nose, and pooling on his pillow. He let them fall without wiping them away. They were for Fred and he refused to be ashamed of them.

"Percy," his wife whispered in the darkness.

He didn't respond.

"I love you," she continued quietly.

He closed his eyes tight as more tears leaked out of them. He was being a jerk, he knew. She didn't deserve the way he was treating her. "I wish you didn't," he replied quietly, "I don't deserve it."

He felt her roll over toward him and gently touch his back. He didn't flinch or pull away. She rubbed his back in a comforting, gentle way. "You don't have to deserve it," she whispered. He relaxed into the feel of her hands on his back. "I love you," she told him again.

"I love you too," he replied in a choked voice. He didn't deserve the wonderful woman in bed beside him. She was much too good for him – he'd thought so since the day he'd met her. He had tried to convince her many times but she wouldn't have it. She loved him, she told him over and over. No matter how he treated her – she loved him. He didn't understand it but he trusted it – he trusted her.

A few minutes later he fell into a deep sleep with thoughts of the woman he loved – whose love he didn't deserve. All thoughts of Fred were driven from his mind and along with them went his guilt over his brother's death. He was loved and that was, in the end, all that really mattered.

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	8. I Can Face the Dawn

DISCLAIMER: I am not JK Rowling. I do not own any Harry Potter characters I am merely taking them out to play.

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Scene Eight: I Can Face the Dawn **

It was late. Why George had decided to go back to his flat above the shop and not to the Burrow with the rest of his family, he wasn't sure. At first, being with them had felt good. They shared his grief, they had loved Fred too. But after a while it became – insufferable. He just couldn't stand all the tears. He couldn't bear to watch them suffer any longer. He knew they meant well when they told him they understood but none of them knew how he felt. As much as they'd loved Fred he felt alone in his grief. They'd lost their brother and son, but he'd been ripped in half. He'd lost more than his brother and his best friend, he lost half of himself. He was drained - physically and emotionally. So he went back to his flat, took a long, hot shower and collapsed in his bed. He'd slept for an hour or so, out of sheer exhaustion, he was sure. But now? Now he was wide awake staring across the room at the empty bed on the far wall. He couldn't take his eyes off it. In the moonlight it looked like a tomb. He tried to turn away but he couldn't. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Fred's dead body lying on the floor in the Great Hall. The disturbing image would not leave him alone.

Suddenly the door to his flat opened and he sat up straight as someone walked toward him in the dark. He could tell by the way she moved her hips that it was Angelina. Without a word she crawled into bed with him and pulled him into her arms, as she lay back on the bed. He buried his face in her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her middle. The tears he'd been resisting for hours now came out of nowhere and burst from him in great, ugly, unchecked sobs. He clung to her as though his life depended on it. She let him sob, his tears soaking her robes, as she rubbed his bare back with one hand and ran her fingers through his short red hair with the other. This was what he needed – someone to hold him while he cried; someone who knew him, who wouldn't judge him, who didn't need him to be strong.

It was a couple of moments before he realized she was crying too. He'd calmed down enough to hear what she was saying between sobs. He thought she was just murmuring nonsense but now that he could hear her he understood. She was repeating the same words over and over again. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry George, I'm sorry."

He took a few steadying breaths and pulled his face out of her shoulder, supporting himself on his elbows, which were on either side of her. His chest hitched a few times but he felt spent. He knew he had no more tears in him.

He looked up at her; she'd stopped rubbing his back and was wiping tears from her eyes. She looked beautiful in the moonlight. Her other hand was resting on the back of his neck. She drew it around, along his jaw line, and then gently across his bare collarbone, which sent shivers down his spine.

"Thank you," he said, to fill the silent moment, "for coming," he added. "I guess I needed a good cry."

"I thought you might," she said in a choked voice. Her chest hitched – she was still trying to recover, to keep herself from crying. "Thank you too," she said after another quiet moment passed between them – during which nothing had been said but a million silent things had passed between them as they maintained eye contact.

"For what?" He asked quietly.

"For letting me in." She rested her hand on his chest, right above his heart. He could see more tears welling up in her beautiful brown eyes. It meant something to her that he had let her see this side of him – this weak side that he'd shown to no one else. He'd let her hold him while he'd cried – the only other person to have that privilege was his mother and she hadn't done it in years.

He rolled over, onto his back, pulling her with him as he did, so their positions were reversed. Now she was looking down at him.

"Stay with me tonight?" He wasn't really sure if it was a question or not. It'd sort of come out as a command. "I don't want to be alone tonight," he continued in a shaky voice, "I just can't."

She was silent for a moment and he was sure she'd say no when she surprised him by replying, "I can't think of anywhere else I'd rather be."

He smiled weakly. He wanted to say thank you but words failed him, he was so overwhelmed with gratitude. He didn't have to be alone tonight.

"Do you have anything I can wear?" She asked, sitting up and pulling away from him. He'd forgotten she was still wearing her robes.

"Yeah," he sat up as well. "In the top drawer of the dresser," he gestured toward it, it was on the other side of the room. She got out of bed and went to it, pulling out a pair of his boxers and a t-shirt.

"Is this ok?"

It was dark and he couldn't see exactly what it was. "Sure."

"Ok, I'll change," she told him and disappeared into the bathroom.

He lay back down and stared up at the ceiling, determined not to look at the empty bed across from him. His heart was still heavy but it felt slightly less so now that she was here, now that he'd let some of his grief out. He closed his eyes for a moment and instead of the image of Fred's dead body he saw her face now.

A moment later she was back, lifting his covers and sliding into his bed. She immediately snuggled up to him, resting her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his strong arms around her, enjoying the warmth she brought with her. He knew his life had been changed forever. He knew he would never be the same again. He knew he would miss Fred for the rest of his life. But he thought - as he hugged Angelina close - with her in his arms he could get through this. With her, the pain felt less, somehow. In the morning he would have to get up and face a world without Fred. But tonight – he sighed – tonight he could fall asleep with a beautiful woman in his arms and know that he wouldn't have to face the dawn alone.

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